


Art

by MadamaButterfl



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Other, POV First Person, mangaverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:31:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamaButterfl/pseuds/MadamaButterfl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Manjoume appreciates art. Even more, he thinks, that any other snob invited to the opening night of yet another art gallery in New York.<br/>After all, no one else feels it like he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art

Am I supposed to be enjoying myself?

Art galleries. No matter how much I can appreciate art, these events filled with snobs make me sick; they are all rich and powerful so they should have the last word no?

They were all so naïve for being so old. Their power would be nothing if it weren't for people "below" them that granted it to them. Of course, they wouldn't dare to think of their luck and "hard work" as arbitrary and depending of other people.

We are all egoistical bastards here.

Did someone say champagne? Finally, something decent to drink in this place.

Despite everything, I always enjoyed visiting New York because I've always been quite fond of big cities.

Then again, when  _they_ send me here, the visit does become less pleasant.

How big is this place? I feel I've been walking for hours.

Ah, all the artists are here also.  _Lovely_

I've always liked complaining about everything and then begging other people to pay me for my misery.

Well, at least on most cases their subconscious is the only one who knows they think that way so the humility isn't fake.

I've never attempted to be humble. There has never been a reason for me to be, no matter how much that bastards tried to make me feel less.

I am more. I have always been more. If I weren't, why would they depend on me to continue with their plan?

If I weren't, why would I have gotten the help of such a powerful spirit?

If I weren't, why does everyone, including that annoying slacker, look up to me?

Jun, calm down. This is not the moment.

This painting is actually quite nice, I wonder how much is it..

Blue, every kind of blue I have ever thought of. All in one place. Distorted, disorganized, making an order out of chaos. Completely out of place with the other paintings that merely beg for everyone's attention.

You can't beg for attention. You either get it or you don't.

I've always had it but I have never had enough.

_Aww, is someone having family issues?_

It's not like I can really deny them when my own brothers announced they did disown me, no?

But yes, this painting is quite nice. No wonder none of the others have tried to buy it yet. They are all so easily impressed by bright colours.

_Easily impressed…Juudai._

I can't avoid my mouth to twitch when I remember the Slifer duelist.

Talented, maybe. Incredible? A genius? Never.

Who dictates who is a genius? Them? The easily impressed? No wonder Juudai is so popular.

And no wonder this paiting is left alone.

That misunderstood bullshit all artists tend to fall into is extremely annoying. You aren't misunderstood asshole, you are no more deep than them.

If you are misunderstood you don't say it because you  _know_ no one would get it.

Silence, yes finally. I was wondering when the old hags would stop talking about their hairstyles and the pretentious owners of small companies would stop trying to pretend they gave a shit about art when the only thing they wanted was to be seen by the photographers that were hidden on every corner.

The lights are being turned off. Apparently, only this painting remains.

Maybe I should buy it.

_Feeling sentimental? Does loneliness get to you?_

Probably. I have always despised loneliness although I have always liked being alone.

Then again, how am I supposed to find someone worthy enough of me when no one takes the time to think on whatever is around them? Why should some humans deserve to be called such when they don't question what's around them? When they don't look for more?

I've never been satisfied with what I have.

_But you are a spoiled brat. That's merely natural_

The painting keeps staring at me. All the shades, the shadows, they all seem to be linked together no matter how different they are.

A memory.

A blue house in the middle of the woods. England maybe? Perhaps the house in France. Europe looked always so similar when you are 6 years old.

It was raining, as usual. Probably England yes. The sky was grey but that light blue tint never really left it. The evergreen woods that surrounded the cerulean house looked greener than ever, as the trees always did in the rain.

Jun was soaked from head to toe but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. He was free, his brothers had left for a business meeting and his nanny never really cared about where he was so he ran and ran until he couldn't anymore.

He was just standing there. His little grey suit that matched his eyes, his little blue shirt. They had given all that to him so he couldn't care less.

The painting was rain.

Someone called, back in New York, a distant voice.

"Mr. Manjoume, would you like to buy the painting? I'm afraid we are about to close sir."

Heh, his voice sounded so frightened. He probably knew it wasn't a good idea to make me leave.

"If your little brain didn't process it yet, I would really like to buy this painting."

He looked more frightened even but he immediately packed it and sent it to my address in New York.

It was a nice painting.

I arrived there first obviously, serving myself a cup of coffee to pass the time. I don't even like coffee, just the way it smells, it's..invigorating.

Ah, that must be them bringing the painting in. The maid should show them where they should leave it.

Just in the middle of the living room, staring back at me.

Carefully, I took from my pocket a little silver lighter. It had the shape of a dragon, one of my most prized possessions.

And I lit the painting on fire.

I backed away slowly, as if to appreciate it better. It had been a nice painting once.

But everything that has my past written on it must be destroyed.

With a nod of approval, I went out of the pent house and started walking down the stairs.

I have never really liked art.


End file.
